


I'd Declare A War For You

by why_didnt_i_get_any_soup



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Captivity, Fantastic Racism, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), M/M, Masturbation, No Incest, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Political Prisoners, Politics, Royalty, Sex, They are NOT brothers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 15:46:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13010997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/why_didnt_i_get_any_soup/pseuds/why_didnt_i_get_any_soup
Summary: Odin acquires a Jötunn babe during the war with the Frost Giants and takes the child home as a political pawn, raising it with a well-rounded education and modest housing accommodations but no freedom or free will. Thor...doesn't seem to understand the situation.





	1. Chapter 1

Thor knew the babe was a Jötunn, yet its cheeks had the rosy pink tint of the Æsir. Then, why did his father bring this  _ thing _ home? Of everything he knew of combat, of conquering, it would have been better to destroy it.

“Father,” Thor asked, peering into the crib that contained the infant, “why did you not kill it?”

“One day, when you’re older, you will understand, my son.”

Thor was a young god when his father brought the child into their kingdom, a mere few centuries. The Allfather’s answer was wholly unsatisfying to him. He whinged about it, nagging his father and pulling his sleeve as the baby was taken off to be cared for by a nursemaid. Finally, his father had had enough of his antics and banished him to his quarters without supper.

As the centuries wore on, the boys learned to play together as they were the only ones close in age being kept in the palace. It seemed they were encouraged to play, but it always felt unequal because they both knew their stations. They were educated separately, in very different subjects it seemed—Thor by his father and his father’s ilk and Loki by Freyja and hers. Loki, the Jötunn boy was called, was trained in the art of seiðr. Thor, conversely, was trained in combat, military strategy, and, to a lesser extent, diplomacy. 

That was how, one day when Thor was practicing his sparring, golden hair pinned up and sweat dripping down his face with Odin as his opponent, he came to fight Loki in a sparring match.

“You are a good fighter,” Odin had said to him, “but you are too used to my style. You must battle someone else so as to practice thinking on your feet.”

Thor had expected a warrior, a trained fighter, someone physically stronger and better than Thor. He was surprised when the Allfather summoned Loki. Of course, Loki had grown since they were children, but he was still thin and meek-looking.

Thor laughed, then, upon seeing his intended opponent, thunderous and boastful.

“You jest, Father. I cannot possibly fight him. He will lose badly.”

Odin said nothing, simply encouraged Loki to step up to fight. The two opponents stood there, facing each other, Thor with a smug look on his face and Loki slightly hunched, cowed.

“Go!” Odin called, then, from his seat away from the arena, under the shade of trees.

Thor knew what he would do, were he to fight Odin—go on the offensive—but he was unsure if the same strategy would work here, even with Loki’s physical inferiority in play. Still, he lunged forward, aiming to strike Loki’s stomach. He missed entirely, the lithe little man dancing away with a bit of a smirk on his face.

“Oh, that’s how it is, is it?” Thor asked, wiping away some of the sweat from his brow.

Loki said nothing but his smirk widened.

Thor threw more punches, this time Loki blocked them and spun them away from himself. It was becoming less of a fun challenge for Thor and more of a nuisance. His frustration was building and made him lash out harder, but it also made him clumsy and lowered his defenses. This allowed for Loki to slip right in and deliver a definitive tap to Thor’s rib cage.

“Were this a real fight,” Loki said, his hand still touching Thor’s side, “I could have easily killed you. You’ve let your guard down.”

Loki’s words were pedantic and that infuriated Thor more. They pulled away and poised for another round of sparring.

“You speak to me as though you are above your actual station. You will watch your tongue with me.” Thor scolded.

“Oh come now,” the humor in Loki’s face hadn’t faded, “what’s a little sparring advice among friends?”

“Oh, we’re friends now?”

“Aren’t we?”

“Right now, I would have to say nay.” Thor spat as he began to circle Loki, though Loki seemed unfazed, his footwork near flawless without even looking.

If nothing else, Thor knew he was behaving aggressively because of his competitiveness that was constantly engendered by his father. He had never even considered Loki to be a worthy opponent, yet the score was 0 to 1, Loki. He tried to slow himself down, just like he had been taught, to observe the opponent and check for weaknesses in the proverbial armor. This did not work as planned, as the time he was using to think was used by Loki to strike again, this time going for the neck, blatantly from the front.

“I can hear your mind turning! It makes you an easy target.” Loki panted out before Thor threw several more punches that didn’t come close to landing.

Finally, Loki’s opportunity rose when Thor threw all of his bodily might into a blow meant to strike Loki across the face. Instead of absorbing the blow, Loki shifted Thor’s weight, sending Thor belly-first onto the ground, his chin absorbing most of the impact. With Thor’s arm still in hand, Loki twisted it behind Thor’s back and placed a knee into the middle of it, showing a clear sign of dominance.

Thor did not put up a struggle at all, just laid there with his face in the dirt, waiting. There was a pregnant pause between them like they were both expecting the other to say something but neither were forthcoming. After a few seconds, Loki let up, wiped his face of sweat, and walked away. Thor was utterly stupefied. He let Loki walk away for a short while before jumping up and dashing after him, calling to him in front of anyone who would hear.

“Where did you learn to fight like that?” He asked, but Loki didn’t stop or even slow down. 

Thor tried to catch up with him but it seemed the faster he moved, the farther away Loki got. Finally, he rounded a corner and Loki was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting the chapter off with a dose of masturbation so........here we go

He couldn’t explain it, but he could not stop thinking about Loki, how quick he was on his feet, how smooth his voice was, how skilled and agile he was in combat. Thor hadn’t seen much of Loki since they’d grown older and he wasn’t sure what he should have expected, but what he observed was far beyond the realm of his imagination. He was...impressed.

That night, he laid on his back in his bed and thought about fighting Loki again, about what he did wrong, how he could improve, and how he could win. He was imagining a battle of strength, which he knew he would win. Loki had simply only won because he had used his wits, dodging and weaving. It was cheating, was what it was, and Thor knew if he got the little weasel in a headlock, his bulging bicep around Loki’s thin little neck, he would win. He could easily subdue his opponent if he could knock him to the ground, pin him there.

Laying on his back was a particularly fragile situation for Thor. To him, it felt open and vulnerable, inviting something even if it wasn’t his intention. But as his mind wandered, so did his hand. It was almost involuntary and it was so easy for him to feel a small bit of arousal—just enough to run a hand over his stomach, making large and slow circles over his abdomen. It piqued his arousal, letting his hand drift lower and lower until he gripped himself beneath his tunic. He was in no hurry to finish himself off, so he stroked slowly, teasing. Then, he started to think about Loki again, their hands on each other, wrestling in the dirt, legs intertwined, thrusting against each other for dominance. That got him pumping faster, desperate for the friction of his own calloused hands. Quickly, he reached climax, panting but not nearly sated. It was clear he would need to go again after he had time to recover.

 

…

 

The next day, Thor went in search of Loki. He knew very little of the Jötunn in their midst so he had no clue where to start. First, he searched the training grounds but had little luck. He asked around but no one had seen Loki. However, one Valkyrie told him to try to kitchens, as he sometimes spent time there.

Then, Thor went down to the kitchens. Loki was not there either. The cooks told him to check the stables as Loki could sometimes be found there. But, at the stables, Thor found only the steads of noble warriors being tended to and cared for. There were a few Valkyries and other Æsir milling about, but Thor did not disturb any of them. Time with their animals was sacred, he knew.

From there, he had begun to feel discouraged and meandered toward the gardens. There, he saw the tell-tale golden locks of Freyja with her boar, Hildisvíni, sat snorting next to her, ugly and loyal as ever.

“You look lost, my son.” Freyja said, her voice light and airy. He was not her son, of course, but she addressed everyone that way.

Truly, the Vanir was beautiful and he found himself distracted every time he spoke with her. She motioned to him to sit next to her. He eyed her boar wearily and, as politely as he could, declined the offer.

“Is there any way I can help you?” she asked.

“I’m looking for Loki.”

Freyja laughed, a tinkling sound. “He could be anywhere,” she answered. “He is a difficult one to pin down.”

“That is no help!” Thor exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

Freyja laughed again. “I have been training him in the way of seiðr. Perhaps he does not _want_ to be found.”

This struck Thor. He had not even considered this possibility, and it brought up the potential of Loki leaving the grounds. Without thanking her, Thor quickly turned and marched back up toward the throne room. There was one person he knew would know the answer to that question.

As he expected, he found his father in the throne room, sitting above several advisers who seemed to be deep in conversation. Thor, not caring much for diplomacy, barged right in and began speaking over the advisers. Odin interrupted Thor’s interruption.

“Thor, why are you not in your lessons?” the Allfather demanded in a booming voice, standing from his seat.

Thor was older then, but he still felt an instinct inside himself to cower when his father raised his voice that way.

“I…” Thor hesitated, knowing no matter what excuse came from his lips, it would not be sufficient.

“Go. Leave my sight. Speak to your mother, if you must.”

With his tail between his legs, Thor beat a hasty retreat from the throne room to find his mother in her chambers, where she spent most of her time. The interaction had been so minor on the scale of Odin’s wrath, but Thor had been so focused on his mission that he had been taken off guard by the reaction, even if he had been disrespectful. He felt that he needed to lick his wounds and he knew his mother would be just the person to soothe him.

He entered his mother’s room without knocking, about to start talking, but was stopped by the sight in front of him. Loki was sitting with her at her armoire, his hands moving around in the air, a warm yellow glow following them. Frigga was watching raptly with a smile on her face. Then, out of the air, a dove emerged and began to fly about the room. As Frigga turned to follow its path, her eyes fell on Thor, dumbstruck, at the threshold.

“Thor!” she called, “come in!”

“Hello, Mother,” Thor said but didn’t venture farther into the room, his eyes trained on Loki instead.

Loki didn’t look at Thor. Instead, he focused on the dove, calling it back him. He closed his hands around it and, in a flash of yellow, the bird was gone again.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Frigga asked Thor.

He tore his eyes away from Loki to look at his mother. “I...had a question to ask you, Mother, but I will ask at a later date.”

“Very well, my son.” She nodded and turned back to Loki who was staring at his hands.

“Could I speak with Loki?” He blurted, unaware that he was even going to say that.

Loki looked frantically to Frigga, his eyes pleading. However, Frigga nodded assent to Thor.

“Of course.” She said and turned away, obviously dismissing the both of them.

With visible reluctance, Loki stood and moved toward Thor. Thor, for his part, was suddenly nervous though he couldn’t say why. He would actually have to speak with Loki now that he had initiated the interaction, but all he could think about was the night when his hand had wandered while he thought of Loki.

The two of them entered the hall outside of Frigga’s chambers and Thor shut the door behind them, effectively creating a barrier between them and his mother’s ears. Loki crossed his arms and waited, seeming impatient. _Well?_ His eyebrows seemed to say.

“I was...wondering,” Thor scratched the back of his head and looked anywhere but Loki’s face, “if you would be interested in sparring again.” Then, Thor looked up to see the response.

Loki was silent for a moment before responding. “I am not.” He said, and then turned to walk away.

“What?” Thor called, dumbstruck and not following behind Loki for several seconds. It took that time to register that Loki had said no. But by the time he began to follow the Jötunn down the hall, a group of servants was clogging it, and Thor had lost him yet again. But Thor was not one to take no for an answer.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The third day, Thor went looking for Loki again. He wasn’t going to give up. He would wear Loki down and get that fight even if it was the penultimate thing he did (with the fight obviously being the last thing). He checked the stables, the gardens, his mother’s chambers, the seamstresses’ room, and the kitchens. Loki was in none of them. However, one of the cooks told him that he had just missed Loki and that the Jötunn had just been down there, working on making biscuits. The cook pointed out a cloth-covered basket sitting on a counter near several other cooks who were shelling a green vegetable. Thor went over to them and noticed the biscuits were still warm. He pulled one out, sniffed it, and took an exploratory bite.

“Light as a pegasus’ feather.” He remarked with a full mouth.

The cook nodded happily and had one for himself.

“Do you have any idea where Loki went next?” Thor asked, then.

“Sadly, I do not.” He admitted. “Good luck though.”

Thor thanked the man and ascended back up into the palace. The space was huge and the options were nearly limitless. Who was to say Loki had not returned to a spot Thor had already checked earlier? There was nothing preventing that from being the reality. In desperation, he considered going to Heimdall for help, but he resisted. He had one more idea before he would give up: a place he _never_ frequented. The library.

To Thor’s surprise and delight, he found Loki perched on a bench inside the library. He was unsure of the library’s organizational system so he had no way of knowing if Loki was sitting in a particular section or if he just enjoyed that spot, as it was near a window and warm sunshine was streaming in through the glass panes.

There seemed to be no one else present in the cavernous room and so Thor’s footsteps rang out as he made his way toward Loki. Surprisingly, Loki didn’t look up from his reading even as Thor was upon him.

“Loki,” Thor said, reaching out a hand to place on Loki’s shoulder.

Thor was startled when he nearly lost his balance and fell due to the fact that his hand went right through Loki’s shoulder.

“A neat little trick I’ve recently learned.” The specter of Loki said to Thor, amusement shining in his dark, devious eyes. “I’m not really here.”

“Where _are_ you?” Thor inquired.

“Why should I tell you when I know you’ve been stalking me?”

“Stalking!” Thor spat incredulously. “I have been doing no such—” but Loki interrupted.

“I do not wish to mince words, Odinson. What is it that you want?”

“I would like a rematch in combat.” Thor proclaimed proudly, puffing his chest up involuntarily.

“You think that you will win,” Loki said, not as a question.

“I hope that I will.”

“If I agree to duel with you once more, will you leave me alone for good?”

“Perhaps,” Thor said coyly.

Loki sighed. “You have to swear to me. If we fight again, you will let me be.”

“Fine. Cross my heart.” Thor made the motion over his chest, a sign of good faith. “But, perhaps, you may not want me to leave you alone once I defeat you this time.”

“You won’t," Loki snapped, "Defeat me, that is.” It wasn’t cocky in the way he said it. To him, it was just a matter of fact.

“We will see about that!”

“Name the time.”

“Tomorrow, just before lunch.”

Just then, Loki, another one, rounded the corner of a bookshelf. It startled Thor but he tried not to let on. Loki stuck out a hand to shake on it but Thor was reluctant, afraid that he would grasp air. But he swallowed his fear and took it, relieved when he clasped onto a solid hand. They shook on their deal.

“Now,” Loki said, releasing his grasp, “leave me in peace. I will meet you tomorrow at the agreed upon time.”

Thor nodded and took of Loki his leave.

 

…

 

“No, no, Sif. You have to move faster, more _agile_.”

“Thor,” Sif huffed out, frustrated, “I fight how I fight. I can’t act like another person. If you want to battle with Loki, then go fight him.”

“I’m trying to practice to fight him later today!”

“Then, I can’t help you!” Sif stormed off.

“Sif! I’m sorry!” Thor called to her retreating back. “Please, come back!”

She ignored him and kept walking.

Thor swore to himself and spun around the training grounds to see if there was anyone else who might be willing to spar with him. Unfortunately, everyone seemed to be occupied, paired or otherwise. Then, despite the hour being earlier than their agreed upon meeting, Thor saw Loki materialize out of the shadows of the trees around the training grounds.

“Are you ready?” Loki called, a smirk on his face.

Suddenly, Thor was nervous. He _wasn’t_ ready. He hadn’t trained enough while practicing with Loki’s fighting style. Instead of showing weakness, Thor smiled widely and motioned for Loki to come over.

“Never more so!”

“Somehow, I highly doubt that,” Loki said when he was closer to Thor.

Of course, Loki was right, but Thor couldn’t admit that.

“Before we start,” he said, instead, “we need to set up some ground rules.”

Loki nodded.

“One: no magic. Two: no weapons. Just us, hand to hand.”

“Deal,” Loki said, sticking a hand out to shake. “Shall we began?”

“Let’s.”

They both got into position opposite each other, Loki with a smug look on his face and Thor concentrating so much he looked a bit dense. Then, without warning or his usual battle cries, Thor charged at Loki like a bull. Loki easily stepped out of the way, sticking out a foot for Thor to trip over. To Loki's satisfaction, Thor landed heavily on the ground.

“You’re already face down in the dirt!” Loki laughed down at him.

Thor rolled over on his back and got his legs around Loki’s ankles, squeezing to knock Loki on to his side, next to Thor. This gave Thor the opportunity to roll over onto Loki, pinning him to the ground. Loki’s black hair was wild, not pinned back, and in his face. He spluttered, trying to get it out of his mouth.

“You _brute!_ ” Loki yelled, banging viciously against Thor’s shoulders.

Thor was sweating but grinning down at Loki triumphantly then.

“I knew I would best you if it was a game of brawn!”

“It's never a game of brawn, you heathen." Loki pushed harder, to no avail. "This is barely sparring. Now, will you get off me?”

Thor looked reluctant. The victory had not been hard won and he was not feeling so triumphant as time was wearing on.

Awkwardly, Thor hauled himself off Loki and turned to offer him a hand up. Loki observed the proffered hand for a few seconds, squinting angrily up at it. Then, in a flash of yellow light, where Loki had once been was a great eagle. It shrieked at Thor and then took off into the expansive blue sky above. Thor has a brief and terrifying thought that it would be the last he ever saw of Loki.


	4. Chapter 4

Thor avoided his studies for a few days, choosing instead to languish in bed. He took his meals there, slamming doors on servants and anyone trying to bring him messages from his father. He rested at least somewhat easier knowing his father would never personally come looking for him, but the longer he avoided him the more severe Odin’s anger would be when Thor finally did make his appearance. He just could not bring himself to show his face, despite technically being the victor of the battle between himself and Loki. Truly, he felt more like a cheat than a true winner and he was petulant enough to waste away in his room rather than take criticism and work to improve his fighting skills.

When there was knocking at his chamber door, he ignored it at first. It continued, so he shouted for the knocker to go away. Still, it persisted, faster and louder now.

“What do you want?” Thor bellowed, still laying in bed, a little sweaty, with his back to the door.

He was startled when Loki materialized in front of him, standing next to the bed.

“Bah!” Thor shouted and almost fell off.

“Calm yourself, Odinson. I am merely an apparition right now,” he said.

“Oh. Right.” Thor said awkwardly, pulling the silk sheets of his bed up to cover his bare chest. “What do you want?”

Loki gave him a withering look and started muttering to himself. “What do I—” he sighed and pinched his nose, and Thor imagined he was doing that in real life, wherever he was. “I came to talk to you.”

“Yes, right,” Thor said trying to sit up while maintaining some decorum.

“I’ve trained with the Valkyries,” Loki explained.

“What?” Thor was confused. “Why would they let—”

Loki cut him off. “I’ve been trained in a lot of…traditional homemaking activities.”

“Okay.” Thor shrugged. “They are useful skills.”

“I think you do not understand me.”

“I understand you perfectly,” Thor said. “You have learned to sew and cook and use seiðr.”

Loki sighed. “Right. Well, that’s what I came to say.” He started to fade but Thor called out to him.

“Loki, wait!” And it worked.

Loki materialized again, looking expectant but exasperated. “Yes?”

“Are you...here? Or…” he trailed off.

“Yes, I am here.”

Then he was truly gone.

 

...

 

Thor didn’t see much of Loki for a while—a few decades, at least—but he knew Loki was there, in the palace. It seemed that neither of them wanted to _see_ the other. They had left it at an incredibly awkward place and it just seemed easier not to speak at all. But, after all that, they were both summoned for a diplomatic dinner between the Æsir and the Eldjötnar held in Asgard.

The Eldjötnar were not a peaceful people by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, they were the mortal enemies of the Jötnar, Loki’s people. Odin did not suffer the Eldjötnar easily, but it was his duty to maintain peace among the nine realms and, therefore, it fell to him to dissuade the hot-headed Eldjötnar from war with Jotunheim.

Thor was given no warning about what the dinner would be like, only had his preselected outfit laid out for him on his bed when he returned to his chambers just before dinner: red silken cloth with intense golden accents. It was so beautiful that he felt like a twat wearing it, yet he showed up to dinner anyway. He didn’t expect to see Loki there, and he certainly didn’t expect to see Loki there, brought in in chains. At the sight of it, he felt a fierce and powerful anger rise up inside him and he almost flew out of his seat to jump across the stone table and break the chains binding the Jötunn. His mother, however, placed a cold but steady hand on his arm that effectively stopped him in his tracks.

“We will talk later,” Frigga muttered sharply.

Thor nodded, resigned. He took one last look at Loki, surprisingly calm and unfazed, before purposefully avoiding Loki’s eyes. Admittedly, it was near impossible for him to do so because Loki was sitting directly across from him, boring holes into him.

There was near silence as servants brought in trays and platters of meats and vegetables, all smelling delicious. Yet, Thor had lost his appetite. Instead of longing to dig into the roasted beast taking center stage of the display like he usually would, he found himself staring determinedly at the empty metal plate set in front of him.

“How are you finding your new station in Muspelheim?” Odin called across the expansive table to the leader sat at the other end after they had all begun to dig into their meals.

Thor was pushing the food around his plate more than actually eating it, but his ears perked up at that. He knew his father and he knew that the comment was meant to be a subtle jab more than an actual inquiry. Did that mean the Eldjötunn that looked no different from an Æsir sitting opposite his father was a _new_ leader? Was that why the dinner was happening? For millennia, there had been uneasy peace between the two worlds of giants, yet now they were all uncomfortably seated around a chilly table in Asgard for a tense dinner.

“It is pleasant enough. My predecessor was...quite insufficient.”

Thor heard his mother snort almost inaudibly at that.

“He was too _complacent_.” the Eldjötunn finished, slicing off an entirely too large piece of meat and stuffing it into his mouth that was barely visible under his thick, dark beard.

Thor found the creature revolting, even with the safe distance he was sitting from it. It wasn’t even that the Eldjötunn was physically deformed or unpleasant to behold, it was just what he represented by his mere presence in their kingdom.

“We understand you wish to end your truce with Jotunheim.” Odin said, cool and level headed. “And we understand why you may desire to do so.”

The Eldjötunn did not pause from stuffing meat into its face, merely nodded like a savage as it chewed with an open and slovenly mouth.

“However, we feel we may have something that you would find valuable that we hope will dissuade you from jumping into a conflict.

Thor saw the thing’s eyes slide over to Loki, the obvious elephant in the room, and he felt his blood start to boil. He hated that that thing was permitted to gaze upon Loki’s visage at all, much less in such a lecherous manner. He was trying to tamp his anger down and he felt his mother tense beside him, reaching her hand over again to subdue him. But he was staring at that thing and watching it lick its lips as it gazed at the Jötunn. What blatant and disrespectful hypocrisy. That was _it_. That was the final straw.

“No!” Thor roared, throwing back his chair and scraping it uncomfortably on the floor as he rose to his feet. “I know what you’re planning!” His voice was booming thunderously. “You cannot treat him this way! He’s not a pawn; he has feelings and a life!”

“The Jötunn is not up for grabs, I see.” the Eldjötunn laughed, a disgusting and humorless laugh, words aimed right at Thor in spite. “Instead, he is the God of Thunder’s _concubine_.” It sneered, an awful red glow pulsing underneath its pale skin.

The true form was coming to the surface as its own anger rose in response to Thor’s heaving chest and raised fists. Then, the Eldjötunn stood too, looking as if it was ready to battle as well. But before anything could come to blows, the rest of the court—save for Loki, who was still chained—stood as well. Odin rushed the Eldjötnar into an antechamber while Frigga dragged her impetuous son by the ear toward her own chamber, leaving Loki to be taken care of by the same servants who had brought him in.

Once they were away from the dining hall and inside Frigga’s chambers, she let go of Thor’s ear. He rubbed it petulantly and was about to start furiously arguing with his mother when she silenced him with a quick spell. He found that no sound would come from his lips no matter how hard he tried. This, to his horror, seemed to please his mother just a little, a small smile on her face.

“I know he is not my son, but I love him as if he is,” she said, suddenly much more serious, allowing the spell to drop.

“Loki?” Thor asked, confusion knitting his eyebrows together.

Frigga nodded.

“Wait.” the gears were starting to turn for Thor, “So, you never wanted…” Frigga nodded. “You anticipated me…” Frigga nodded again. “So that it could seem like…?”

“Exactly, my son.”

“But what about Jotunheim?”

“Your father is an excellent negotiator, though the Eldjötnar are quite tough. If he can’t work something out…” she trailed off.

“Then, we go to war.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have a weird dose of awkward :)

After that, it was unsurprising when Odin ordered his troops to prepare for war with Muspelheim. Thor, of course, was also being called to battle. He knew he needed to see Loki before he went, so he knocked on Loki’s chamber door, relatively late one evening.

Loki looked exasperated and tired when he opened the door.

“What could you _possibly_ want?”

Thor was distracted from answering briefly as he looked around the room, much smaller than his own and much more modest.

“I’m going to war. For you. I simply wish to speak with you before I go.” He explained.

Loki sighed but opened the door wider, a clear invitation for Thor to come inside. There were a few chairs near the door, simple wooden ones, and Loki sat at one, waiting for Thor to follow suit.

“I suppose you want to talk about that dinner.” Loki began once Thor was seated.

Thor nodded solemnly. “I must ask. Why were they able to bring you in in chains? How are you not free when you can shift into anything you’d like and fly away?”

“I am limited to the bounds of the palace. It was some magic your father had created just for me when he stole me and brought me here.”

Thor was stunned into silence for a brief moment. “Is that what you’ve been researching?” he asked, instead.

“Partially.”

“Have you made any progress?”

Loki squinted at him, suspicious. “Why would you care?”

Thor looked confused. “I want you to be free.” He said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Is that what this is? Do you think I’ll let you fuck me now that you’ve stood up for me once?” Loki roared, standing and nearly toppling his chair.

“No!” Thor shouted, standing as well. “That is not why I am here at all! It never even crossed my mind. I simply wished to check on you. I understand your situation now.”

“ _No!_ ” Loki yelled, startling Thor. “You do _not_ understand! There’s no way you could ever understand this.” Loki sneered before turning his back to Thor.

Thor reached out and placed a hand on Loki’s shoulder. Surprisingly, Loki did not pull away.

“Help me understand, then.”

“Why should I?” There was nothing but contempt in Loki’s voice.

“You’re right.” Thor conceded. “You owe me nothing.”

Loki was genuinely shocked by that. He turned, then, face searching Thor’s. There was nothing but earnestness there. In a moment of weakness, Loki leaned up and kissed Thor.

After that, Thor didn’t let him go, locking him into the kiss with firm hands on Loki's jaw. It felt good. Loki had been kissed a few times, but this had to be the best. Thor knew what he was doing. Of course, the great, shining god had lain with others before. Loki, however, had only been acquainted with his own hand. But, he took Thor’s lead. When Thor stood back to remove his tunic and trousers, Loki followed suit. Soon, they were naked and Thor was pushing Loki back onto Loki’s bed. Loki, not one to relinquish power when he didn't have to, rolled them over, straddling Thor's wide hips.

In the dim light of Loki's modest quarters, Thor balked at the penis before him. He knew he was inexplicably attracted to the Jötunn raised by Æsir, but he wasn’t so sure of the genitalia in front of him as he had never been exposed to any other penis but his own. Loki clearly sensed this. Before Thor’s eyes, the penis morphed and gave way to a deliciously pink vagina.

“Does this suit you better?” Loki asked, flushed and vulnerable.

“No. I will take you in whatever form you prefer.”

“I like them all, really,” Loki explained, just before turning into a snake right in front of his eyes and coiling up around Thor’s thick arm.

Before Thor had time to think or react, as he was quite fond of snakes, Loki sunk his two dagger-like teeth into the meaty flesh of his shoulder. Thor almost screamed at the shock, but Loki changed back into a human form with mouth still on Thor’s shoulder and covered Thor’s mouth with his free hand to stop the sound.

“Shh, shh, shh,” Loki said softly, about to move his hand away.

Thor, however, took the opportunity to suck Loki’s fingers into his mouth. It was Loki’s turn to be startled. He was the one who should be sucking on fingers.

“I want you to take me,” Thor whispered.

Loki paused above him, even more surprised. “Er, what?”

“I want you to enter me.” Thor reiterated, not the least bit shy about it.

“I...I heard you. But, wouldn’t it be _humiliating_ for you to allow me to subjugate you?”

Thor made a confused face. “It’s not subjugation if I want you to do it. It’s about pleasure.”

“But I’m your prisoner, your slave. Isn’t it right, nay proper, for  _you_ to take  _me?_ ”

“Is that what you want?” Thor asked, earnest as ever.

With a sigh, Loki flopped off of Thor and landed next to him, on his back. “It matters not what I want.”

“It does to me.”

“Spare me the sappy bullshit.” Loki snapped. “You’re supposed to fuck me because you’re my captor, because it’s a symbolic conquest of Jotunheim.”

“I want to fuck you because I’m _attracted_ to you. Because I like you.”

“You don’t know me.” Loki rolled off the bed, treating Thor to the expanse of his pale backside.

“Don’t I?”

Loki didn’t answer, just moved to pull on his clothes.

“What are you doing?” Thor asked, rolling toward Loki.

“You said what’s important is what I want, ” he said without turning around.

 _Oh_. Thor realized what was being insinuated. He quickly moved to pull on his own clothes as Loki moved toward the door of the chambers. When Thor was fully dressed, he went to the door as well. Loki didn’t look at him, just opened the door as an obvious dismissal.

“I will prove to you that I am worthy of your affection,” Thor promised there, at the door. “I will fight for you.”

“Good night, your highness.”

“Good night, Loki.”


	6. Chapter 6

In the past, Thor had had experiences with unsatisfactory endings to nights of sexual escapades, but this was much worse than any of them. Instead of going back his chambers to take care of himself like he usually would, he dreaded returning there. He felt as if he would taint the place with the foulness of anger and rejection and whatever other nasty feelings he was experiencing in the pit of his stomach if he were to. Instead, he went out to the terrace to sit and shiver in the cold of the night, gazing up at the stars and infiniteness of the nine realms above and around him, thinking of the war he would soon enter. He remained there until the faintest tendrils of morning began to peek over the horizon. Then, finally, he returned to his chambers to sleep.

 

...

 

The day Thor was to march across the Bifrost with his fellow soldiers, he went in search of Loki. This time, he went straight to the library, knowing the Jötunn would undoubtedly be there, trying to translate volumes on magic. He was not disappointed when he found Loki among the stacks, his nose in a large and ancient tome.

“You can’t let someone stew in sexual humiliation alone, can you?”

“Why would you be humiliated?” Thor asked though he himself had been humiliated too. “Besides, I will be leaving today. Presently.”

“Your highness—”

“Thor.” Thor interrupted.

“Thor,” Loki started again, begrudgingly, “I don’t have the time or energy to explain why someone might be humiliated.”

“That’s fine,” Thor said, clearly not moving to leave. “I have come to bid you farewell.”

Loki regarded him carefully. “Do you...do you fear you may not return?”

“I know not what fate the Norns have planned for me.” It sounded resigned, but he moved past it quickly. “What are you reading?”

“Nothing you’d be interested in.” Loki supplied, almost automatically.

“I’m interested if you’re interested in it.”

Loki sighed and explained that it was a book of ancient runes. “I’m trying to translate to see if there’s anything about the magic binding me here.”

“Is there any way I can help?”

“Not unless you can read the words on these pages.”

Thor peered at them intently. For a moment, Loki was hopeful that somehow Thor possessed a skill that Loki himself did not.

“I’m sorry. I cannot.”

“Of course not.” Loki tried not to sound bitter but failed.

“If I return, I will do my best to help you,” Thor said solemnly, sticking a hand out to shake on it as a promise.

Loki eyed Thor’s waiting hand for a brief second, but he decided to shake it anyway; he had nothing to lose. Thor was nothing if not sincere and, regardless of his cluelessness, he seemed to have Loki’s best interests at heart.

“Thank you,” Loki said, sincere.

Thor nodded and then he was gone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another fic that I am determined to get out of the "wip" stage on here. So, I'm hoping to finish it up soon!

The Æsir had set up camp in a remote part on Muspelheim, a plain of hard granite, in the shadow of a long-dormant volcano, the only truly hospitable land for creatures that were not constituted of lava. On the one hand, it made them relatively easy targets, but on the other hand, they couldn’t allow the fight to travel to Asgard. So, they donned their thick leather armor and went to fight. For years, with enough troops to keep the Eldjötnar away from their camp.

The casualties had been many. And, as the war raged on, the Eldjötnar’s numbers dwindled as the Æsir ravaged villages. Then, when another one of his men—men who trusted Thor’s direction and tactical knowledge under Odin's gentle guidance—returned with the stump where his head used to be completely blackened and cauterized, Thor went to speak to his father.

“What sort of war _is_ this, Father? It has been years of desecration. Soon, no one will be left standing.”

Odin had previously spoken many times of the glory of war, the honor of battles well fought. However, Thor knew there was nothing glorious or honorable about what they were doing on Muspelheim. Simply, they were destroying lives, destroying an entire race. And for what?

“This  _ is _ war, son,” Odin responded from his seat where he was surrounded by his advisors and maps.

His mouth was set in a tight line. Thor couldn’t tell what was causing his father the displeasure, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it might be Thor’s nagging presence.

“I have been deceived about the true nature of this heinous act. I can’t condone this  _ slaughter _ of women and children, innocents. Of an entire race. We are teaching them  _ nothing! _ They cannot change if they are dead.”

“Their death is their lesson,” Odin said, distractedly, before answering a question that had been posed by one of the advisors around him. Then, he turned back to Thor. “We must show them that we will not hesitate to completely destroy them if that is what it takes to maintain peace among the nine realms. We shall show their king that his people will suffer unless he gives up his desire for war with Jotunheim.”

It was in that moment that Thor realized his father was not the noble or good man he had thought he was. He was reminded of when he was a mere babe and Odin had brought back the rosy-cheeked Jötunn. Thor, at the time, had thought it was an act of weakness, softness, and that Thor himself would never stoop to that low when he finally did go to war. Now, he realized that it was neither of those things; it was an act of cruelty, using a living being with thoughts and feelings as nothing more than leverage. And, he realized that war was not the noble act he had been led to believe. It did not mean Thor didn’t still enjoy the challenge of sparring, but when the stakes were life and death, he would rather choose death than destroy more lives.

“This must stop. For the sake of the Æsir and the Eldjötnar left. Send word to the king that he is to surrender and that the war will be over upon his acquiescence.”

“And who will send this message, hm?” Odin said, leaning forward to make his point to his dense son.

“I will.” Thor steeled himself, knowing the mission was suicide, especially considering his last encounter with the king of Muspelheim.

Odin sat back and let out an intensely loud belly laugh, his eye closing and his hands coming up to rest on his stomach as it shook. “Surely, you jest.” He said, wiping a tear briefly from his eye.

“Nay, Father. I will sacrifice myself if it will end this bloodshed.”

“No. I forbid it.”

“You forbid me from doing what is right?”

“You are young and naive, child. You know nothing of war and politics. I have seen millennia of both. I am telling you that this type of action is a mistake, a sacrifice worth dirt.”

Thor grit his teeth. “Very well, Father.” He agreed and stormed from the tent toward his own.

Of course, Thor had already made up his mind. He would do exactly what he had promised he would not do. Though, it would take some time for him to be able to achieve it. His father would station guards around his tent. This theory was proved correct when, that night, he exited his tent just to test the bounds and was blocked by four large and stony-faced men he did not recognize.

“Hello, boys,” Thor said with his biggest, dopiest grin possible, “I was just going to relieve myself.”

It was a lie; he had a chamber pot in his tent with him and they knew it. None of the four deigned to answer. That meant escape would be trickier than he thought. He would need a distraction of some kind.

 

…

 

Thor was not permitted to leave his tent. Even when he donned his battle gear at dawn the next day, he was blocked once again by the men around his tent.

“Return to your chambers.” one of the men said, stony and flat.

Thor considered arguing with the man but then thought better of it. Instead, he delivered a message to one of the other men.

“Send for the Warriors Three and Lady Sif.” It wasn’t a question but a demand.

Thor was just barely contained by these men. If he wished, he could smite them easily. However, he did not want to shed any more blood than necessary. He knew it was more of a test than an actual blockade. So, he threw himself on his bed, waiting to see if his friends would indeed receive his message or if he would have to resort to stronger measures.

Within the hour, Fandral, Hogun, Volstagg, and Sif were permitted into his tent.

“Thor, why have we been summoned here?” Hogun asked, looking between his colleagues and Thor.

“Firstly,” Thor whispered, “we must keep our voices disguised. I wish to tell one of you the plan while the other three speak of other matters, then we will rotate with that person telling another while the rest of us speak over the quiet conversation. Does this sound like an acceptable practice to you all?”

The four warriors nodded their consent and Volstagg stepped up to be the first to hear the news while Fandral, Hogun, and Sif talked amongst themselves, loudly by the tent flap near the guards. Thor had to admit, he was proud of himself for coming up with the plan. Finally, the plan was told to all four of them.

“Are we in accordance?” Thor asked the group at large.

Silently, they all nodded tersely, their faces as stony as the guards outside.

“Thank you,” Thor said sincerely.

He knew they were unhappy because this mission would lead to his death but they also knew that it could lead to the end of a war that had lasted several years already. They left silently, knowing Thor would recognize his cue when it happened. It couldn’t be immediate, though; it had to seem organic.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know the Vault is actually really brightly lit in the movies but I wanted to go for a more ominous feel because I like creepy stuff so...

Finally, the planned diversion occurred. The Warriors Three and Sif began to quarrel amongst themselves, yelling and fighting in the camp with weapons drawn. Attention turned to them, giving Thor his chance.

“Heimdall,” Thor whispered in his bed, “I know you can see me. And I know you work under my father’s orders, but please know this war is senseless. We must end it, end the bloodshed. Please—”

Before Thor could finish his sentence, he felt the familiar rainbow pull of the Bifrost, drawing him up into the streaming tunnel he had traveled along so many times before. Then, in the chamber Heimdall spent his time in, Thor found himself face to face with the stoic gatekeeper.

“Heimdall,” he tried to speak but Heimdall silenced him with a large and steady hand.

“Go to Frigga,” he said, pointing toward the palace.

Thor looked at him for a few moments more, trying to decide if he should ask any questions. Instead, he began the long, long journey to see his mother, running as fast as his legs would carry him down the bridge and up into the palace.

He nearly collapsed into the throne room where his mother, haggard and unamused, was seated and talking to a group of advisers to the throne. Upon seeing her son, she flew from the seat and met him halfway.

“Thor!” She exclaimed, bending at the knee to place a steadying hand on her son’s shoulder. “What are you doing here, my child?” She asked him gently, then.

“Heimdall,” Thor panted, “he brought me here. He said to go to you.”

“I see,” she said, standing up straight then. “Follow me.”

Thor was struck by her sudden shift to intense formality. “Yes, mother.”

She began to leave the large chamber, one wave of her hand instructing the advisers not to follow. Thor gulped, standing up and following her nervously.

“Where are we going? Do you know why I am here?”

“Trust me, my son. I would not lead you astray. I can divine why you are here.”

They lapsed into silence as his mother led him toward the cavernous Vault Thor knew was hidden in the belly of the castle. It was a chamber that Thor knew existed but had never entered, only seen the top of the dimly lit stairs when his father had descended inside. He feared the room in an irrational way, having no idea what was inside. As he followed behind his mother’s blonde hair and raised torch into the darkness, he felt a sinking pit of fear in his belly, something he did not even experience when plunging into a battle that could be his last. There was something creeping and unnerving about the space, so dark that visibility was limited to the edges of the torchlight, and Thor could not get a read on how large the space was despite hearing their footsteps echoing in the clearly cavernous chamber.

When they finally descended the stairs to the bottom landing, shivering, all Thor could see was an asymmetrical pedestal on which sat a beautiful stone hammer with carvings around the head in a language he did not understand.

“What is this?” Thor asked, cold and impatience spurring him on.

Frigga turned, a small smile on her face. “This, my son,” she said, “is Mjølnir, crafted on Nidavellir and made from Uru, so that it retains magic extremely well.”

Thor reached for it.

“Thor!” His mother roared, and he pulled his hand away as if he had been burned. “I tell you an object retains magic well and your first thought is to grasp it! Such a man! What if it has been cursed?”

Thor looked down at his feet, feeling like a child again instead of a hundreds-of-years-old man.

“I’m sorry, mother.” He muttered.

“Do not be sorry for me. It is you who would have suffered had it been cursed. If you hadn’t been so impatient, I could have finished telling you what I was trying to tell you.” She gave him a hard stare, and he nodded to indicate that she should proceed.

“Your father had it enchanted so that only someone who was worthy would be able to lift it. If you’re here for the reason I suspect you’re here, Mjølnir will be yours, drawn to you like an animal to a flowing river.”

At the explanation, Thor felt his nerves rise up again, his palms sweating. What if he could not lift it? What if it rejected him? What if it cursed him? But he had no time for such preoccupations. He had to return to the battle as quickly as possible so he could end it once and for all. He steeled himself, took a deep breath, and reached for the hammer.

He was surprised to find that the hammer met him halfway, flying right into his palm. It weighed as much as he expected an instrument of that sort to weigh. He took a few seconds to swing it around, weighing it and getting a feel for it. It was an extension of him, effortless. Then, his eyes flicked up to his mother and her face was alight with joy.

“I knew you were worthy. Thor, you have a pure heart. I knew that’s why you came back.”

“Thank you, mother.” He kissed her cheek. “Thank you for knowing, for understanding.”

“Of course, my dear.” She bent his head down toward her so she could kiss the top of his head.

Before he could move away, she pulled him into a tight hug. She understood what was happening, that Thor could die and that this could be the last time she saw her son. She wanted to give him a proper send off.

“You must go back now. Take my torch. I can find my way back up on my own.”

“Are you sure, mother?” He worried.

“Yes, yes. Go.” She shooed him toward the stairs.

He took the torch and took the stairs two at a time, in great leaping bounds. The longer he took, the more lives were lost. So, he took off toward the Bifrost. However, he was stopped by a familiar blur of movement in the corner of his eye.

There, standing in the palace hall, was Loki, unchanged.

“I have not the time to speak with you,” Thor said remorsefully, breathless.

Loki did not respond. Instead, his eyes were trained on the hammer in Thor’s hand. "Odin had me enchant it."

“It is by my magic that this instrument has the properties it does,” Loki said, moving toward it, hand reaching out.

Thor’s breath was suspended then as he watched Loki’s fingers slip around the handle, below his own, and Thor released it. He wasn’t sure what would happen, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Loki holding it just as Thor had, looking at the script decorating the head.

“It’s written in Dwarvish, signed by its makers: Brokk and Eitri.”

“You can read it?”

Loki nodded. “It says ‘ _whosoever holds this hammer, if he_ _be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor_.’”

Thor was stunned then. “Father had it made for me?”

Loki nodded.

“So, he expected this outcome.”

“I believe so.”

“Thank you, Loki!” Thor rushed forward, unthinking, and kissed him on the lips before taking Mjølnir from the stunned Jötunn. “I will see you in Valhalla!” He called and then began his long journey back to the Bifrost and back to the battle.


End file.
